


The Devil You Knew

by monicawoe



Series: Boy King Sam Episode Remixes [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, Dark, Gen, Horror, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Real Tyson Brady/Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester on Demon Blood, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 20:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monicawoe/pseuds/monicawoe
Summary: Brady—not Azazel—had killed Jessica, all those years ago. And now he was sitting across from Sam, bound. Trapped.(an alternate version of Sam's confrontation with Brady in 5x20)





	The Devil You Knew

Sam could barely think past his rage. The pounding of his own pulse in his ears drowned out the sound of Dean’s fists against the bathroom door. Brady—not Azazel—had killed Jessica, all those years ago. And now he was sitting across from Sam, bound. Trapped.

“You know, Jess thought we were friends, too. Let me right in.” Brady stopped to snort derisively. “She was baking cookies, and she was so _surprised_...So _hurt _when I started in on her.”

The demon-killing blade sang through the air as Sam pulled it from his sheath, and in one quick, tight arc, brought the flat of it against Brady’s throat.

“Do it, Sammy!” Brady snarled. “Do it! Come on!” His mouth slid into a grin. “Come on!”

Sam backed away, breathing hard as Brady laughed at him, mocking his impotent fury. “No. Brady was my friend.”

“Of course he was.” Brady sighed. “Your best friend.” He gave Sam a once-over. “More than that, even. You know, I saw _all_ his memories.” Brady rolled his split lower lip through his teeth; a drop of blood welled to the surface, hanging there like a ruby. “He had a lot of memories about you. Good ones. Like those all nighters: those long...study sessions.”

Sam’s heart thudded in his chest. “Get out of him right now, or I’ll kick you out.”

Brady cocked an eyebrow. “You mean get out of his corpse?” He scoffed. “Please. I killed him the minute I moved in.”

It took all of Sam’s willpower not to clock the demon in the face. Instead he clutched the knife harder, knuckles going white.

“You do realize,” Brady continued, “how many times he would’ve died already, just during the course of today. Crowley fractured my skull.”

“Then I’ve got no reason to take it easy on you, do I?” Sam asked. The demon-killing knife felt unwieldy in his grip; keeping it down was getting harder by the second—like fighting against a magnetic pull.

“No reason at all.”

Dean’s fists pounded against the bathroom door again, with renewed force, and his muffled shouts grew louder.

“But it doesn’t matter.” Brady sneered. “You won’t kill me. You won’t do a thing without big brother’s permission, just like always.”

“That right?” Sam asked.

“You had your chance to step up to the plate,” Brady said, taunting him. “You had all that power, but you let your conscience get the better of you—deluded yourself into thinking you still have a chance at stopping this apocalyptic shitshow while keeping your humanity.”

“You’ve got me all figured out, huh?” Sam raised his chin, defiant. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

“I know you, Sam. I was your best friend, remember?”

Sam lunged, slicing the blade across the side of Brady’s throat, opening up the carotid. A thin red line formed in its wake, widening quickly until it was dripping. “No, you weren’t. _Brady_ was. And you killed him.”

“Sam—“ the demon started, but Sam didn’t give him a chance to get another word out. He straddled Brady, latched onto the wound, and drank. The rush was immediate, his body flushed with heat, and liquid lightning filled his veins, familiar and—at that moment—so very welcome. Sam ignored the insistent voice in his head telling him to feel shame. He’d have plenty of time for that later. For now, he needed this. He wanted it.

“Come on Sam,” Brady rasped, “do it.”

And Sam did. He grabbed hold of the demonic cloud wearing Brady’s skin and squeezed until it struggled against him. It was strong, but Sam took another swallow of blood and another, until he was stronger. He pulled back to look at the demon’s coal black eyes, one last time.

“Azazel was right about you,” Brady said, smiling through bloodied teeth. “You’d make one hell of a king.”

Sam squeezed harder, his will strangling the life from the demon until Brady’s eyes lit up, sparking gold as Sam’s power burned the edges of his tainted soul.

With a choking gasp, Brady said, “You’re _ours_.” His whole body lit up bright as a bonfire and then fell dark again.

Pulse racing, Sam backed away, looking at Brady’s empty shell—satisfied that he’d at least avenged his friend, even if it had been years too late. He took a few, deep, steadying breaths, clenching and unclenching his fists.

And then Brady sucked in a wheezing breath, eyelids fluttering as he raised his head and rasped, voice paper-thin, “S-Sam?”

Time slowed to a horrifying crawl as Sam stared at Brady, at the blood still oozing from the gash in his neck.

“Sam, I—”

It took Sam a few tries to get his words to work. ”Brady? Oh God—” He fell to his knees, reached for Brady’s neck, and covered the wound, applying pressure. “I’ll get help. It’s gonna be all right.”

Brady coughed, blood-flecked spittle dotting his chin. “I’m sorry, I’m so—” his words cut out and his head lolled to the side.

“No. No, listen to me, it’s not your fault.” Sam’s panic crawled up his spine. “I’m gonna get you to a hospital, okay?”

But Brady wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing. And his pale blue eyes were empty.

Sam stood, rigid and hollowed out. Distantly, he became aware of a banging, growing louder by the second, Dean’s insistent fists the only sound in the house, besides Sam’s own shuddering breaths. The banging stopped, replaced by cracking, splintering wood as Dean kicked his way out.

With one last long look at Brady, Sam turned on his heels and fled.


End file.
